


Hombre de todas la confianzas

by RosadelValle



Series: Heart of darkness [4]
Category: Narcos (TV), Narcos: Mexico (TV)
Genre: Classism, Depression, dfs lore, exploring the dark side, what were you expecting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2021-01-02 16:50:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21164933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosadelValle/pseuds/RosadelValle
Summary: He actually attended those events more than a few times. By now, he was quite familiar with Nava’s house: an unsurprisingly big mansion with a large dining hall arranged with classical furniture and a lot of silverware. The everpresent tiger shaped trinkets and the small garden fountains were equally unsurprising, somehow. It could have been a nice place but the heavy exterior walls, the armed guards and the barbed wired served as a reminder of the price the boss had to pay for his bravado. Not many people were allowed there and Morlet was one of them. He was also one of those few agents who saw the boss during his ugly moments, when he shot lamps or other shit to unwind or… worse.





	Hombre de todas la confianzas

**Author's Note:**

> Another small story, another little exploration of Narcos darkest side.  
Based on the fictional versione of the characters and loooooooosely on some real life anecdotes.

Gallardo complained to him about the director constantly: he killed his uncle or cousin, he asked for more money, he… Morlet always tried to calm him down diplomatically but the truth was that he didn’t mind Nava. He liked him even and, as some reckless journalist wrote in one of those useless exposé, considered himself to be his boss right-hand man. That should have been Azul’s role but the man was too involved in his trafficking side hustle to be something more than an useful aide.

Morlet knew perfectly that he was involved just as much, but he still considered himself something more than an ordinary cop gone bad. He was more than a mere sicario for the cartel: he helped Nava create and organize his special unit and together they successfully curbed the guerrilla’s efforts. They had, has the Director solemnly liked to declare, “saved the country from communism and entropy”. Tomas was by no means a sentimental man and yet he couldn’t help but feel a little pang of pride when he heard that.

Azul sometimes complained about Nava too, when he was extremely tired or drunk enough to not weigh his words like the old fox he was: the boss didn’t understand how the traffickers worked, going around with his circus of cars and escort was annoying, his political mysticism and his obsession with order were _cosas de gueros...*_ In these cases Morlet didn’t answer at all or tired to deflect, but truth once again was that he didn’t mind the whole DFS lore: the tigers, the songs, the slogans… It gave the men a sense of discipline, if nothing else. Besides he suspected that both Gallardo and Azul loathed the director so much not just because they didn’t understand him, but because he didn’t really care about being understood by them. They weren’t part of his sunday lunches with the higher-ups.

But he was. He actually attended those events more than a few times. By now, he was quite familiar with Nava’s house: an unsurprisingly big mansion with a large dining hall arranged with classical furniture and a lot of silverware. The everpresent tiger shaped trinkets and the small garden fountains were equally unsurprising, somehow. It could have been a nice place but the heavy exterior walls, the armed guards and the barbed wired served as a reminder of the price the boss had to pay for his bravado. Not many people were allowed there and Morlet was one of them. He was also one of those few agents who saw the boss during his ugly moments, when he shot lamps or other shit to unwind or… worse. Conversely, his boss saw him with his usually slicked back hair unkempt and dirty, poorly dressed and on the verge of hysteria.

Not that things like these mattered in a world like theirs, where life was even more meaningless than everywhere else. Money and violence were the only constant and he knew it better than anyone. Still, when Azul dumped Nava’s battered body on the floor of the private clinic like a sack of flour, Morlet couldn’t help but cringe at the sight. And when they took the corpse to the morgue, where it was later to be assigned a death certificate stating that it was an aneurysm that took the director, he was surprised to catch himself patting gently a bloody hand.

**Author's Note:**

> * white people things.


End file.
